


Artists

by SusieBeeca



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Magritte, Peridot the artist, The Treachery of Images, feeble as it is, meepmorps, the art world, trying to put my Art History background to work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusieBeeca/pseuds/SusieBeeca
Summary: Blue Pearl meets Peridot, and she's startled by this gem's artistic ability. Where could this possibly go?
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	Artists

"It's amazing to meet you!"

It took a great deal of energy, but Blue Pearl somehow managed to swallow down her nervousness; she blinked under her bangs and fisted her tiny hands behind her back, clearing her throat. “It’s, er, very n-nice to meet you,” she stammered, but wasn’t able to meet this Crystal Gem’s eye.

It didn’t seem to matter. The Peridot’s face was nearly splitting apart from her huge smile. “Yes! I agree! It’s such a pleasure to meet you too!”

Her new friend didn’t move… at first. Eventually, she gently bobbed her head and whispered “The… the same.”

“It’s just so amazing to meet someone from Blue Diamond’s court!” Rising to her tip-toes, Peridot clapped her hands and giggled “I used to serve Yellow Diamond, but now… I’m my own gem!” Before the Pearl could react, she threw her hands up over her head and shouted “And just look at me now! I’m an independent being! And I, for one, welcome you to my new place of habitation!”

She twirled on the spot and began to skip towards the barn. Snapping her fingers over her shoulder, she giggled “Come, new friend! Come look!”

The Pearl trailed after her silently, but every time Peridot glanced over her shoulder she noticed her guest glancing up to the various sculptures that lined the walls of her home. She paused when the Pearl did, seemingly entranced by a half-finished installation, and said “This one’s interactive! Try waving at the mirror.”

She did hesitantly. Then, when nothing happened, tried again, this time with a shaking hand.

Peridot grinned brightly. “Ha! You see? I call it ‘All But Our True Selves.’ It’s my personal interpretation of how reflections are but shallow constructs that don’t reflect how we truly are inside!”

Odd… was that a faint blush showing on the Pearl’s cheeks? “It’s… um… nice,” she said with her face tilted down to the grass. Just as Peridot was opening her mouth to speak again, she added “It’s an interesting statement on the superficiality of images.” Then she coughed. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Mind? MIND? Why in the observable Universe would I mind such stunning commentary on my work?!” A hot, surging joy was bubbling up inside her. “You know, there’s a famous human meepmorp-maker from Gaulland who did a series of meepmorps called ‘The Treachery of Images’, and I’ve always admired his work!” She had to gulp a few time to hold down the glee threatening to surge right up her throat. “You must know a lot about meepmorps!” Then her eyes flew wide. “Wait, do YOU make meepmorps too?! Because I’d love to see them!”

The Pearl still had her hands clasped in front of her, a gesture Peridot unfortunately recognized. It wasn’t willful; it had been an order. Her voice wavered a bit when she spoke again: “I… um… do like to draw. Sometimes. When I’m allowed.”

And then she staggered backwards when Peridot let out a squeal of sheer delight. “Well why didn’t you say so?! Oh, I’m so enthralled to meet a fellow meepmorp-maker!” she declared with a voice both brassy and intensely sincere---then, twirling, she bowed down with a flourish. “Or, as the locals call it… an artist!”

Going pale, she hunched down into herself, her smile dimming just a bit. “Oh…oh n- no,” she mumbled, and it almost seemed as if the colour leaked right out of her. “I…I’m not an… _artist._ ”

Frowning in confusion, Peridot pushed her shades back up the bridge of her nose. “Oh? You just said you like to draw.”

The Pearl slowly turned her head away, almost all of her face eclipsed by her thick hair. “Er… yes. I said I like to draw. That doesn’t make me an artist.” A nervous hand came up to her bangs and she lifted them just enough to peek down at her slippers, but not enough for her new friend to actually see her eyes. “I… I just scribble things. Nothing worthy of a frame, let alone a gallery.” Dropping her hair, she laced her fingers again and clicked her heels. “I hope you understand.”

For a moment, just the quiet wind blew between them. Then Peridot let out a huff, threw her hands over her head, and went stomping off to the barn.  
Blue Pearl didn’t smile, but her face eased a bit. Millennia of service to a Diamond meant she was used to Peridots and their occasional fits of snottiness. She folded her legs beneath her and sat down noiselessly; one hand rested on her knee while the other trailed over the thick, tufted grass. It reminded her of her hair, and she realized that she’d never attempted a self-portrait, even though it was the one image most familiar to her.

_It’s for the best,_ she mused to herself as she watched the green blades waft between her fingers. _No one needs to see me. No one wants to see something made by me._

“Here we are!”

She jumped, startled, and quickly rose to her feet---but the Peridot didn’t seem to be in the mood for a reprimand, despite the curt look on her face. “Um, I, y-yes?” she stuttered.

Peridot slammed the tome she was holding on the ground, and then bent down to rifle through it. Once she found the page she was looking for, her back snapped back up rigidly and she pointed towards the book. “Read this!”

It took her a moment to gather her senses. Folding at her knees, Blue Pearl placed her hands on the ground and took a peek. The Peridot’s finger was hovering over a definition, and with a voice laced with nervousness, she read aloud:

“Artist.”

Slowly, Blue leaned down… and, deciding she was taking too long, Peridot snatched the book away from her and jabbed a finger against one of the pages. “AHEM!”

Blue startled backwards. She put a hand over her gem and bit her lip, watching the Peridot as she began to read aloud: 

“’Artist’,” she sniffed. “’Noun. A person who creates art. Alternate: a person who creates drawings, sculptures, paintings, or sketches. Also, see: a person who practices any of the creative arts.’”

Her voice was gone, but Blue still felt a slight fluttering in her throat. She tried to speak, but…

Peridot pretended to scratch her forehead and held the book up to her face, scrunching her mouth into a sarcastic little twist. “Hm… I’m looking here for a definition that says ‘Someone who likes to draw but doesn’t publish their works’. Huh! Doesn’t seem to be there.”

Before Blue could say anything, Peridot jabbed a finger against her chest. “And that’s the _dictionary_. It _defines_ things.” Then she raised her fingertip to Blue’s chin, and gently raised it so they were looking eye-to-eye. “If you make art… and if you _love_ making art… you. Are. An. Artist. Period!”

“But---”

“PERIOD!”

They just stood there, staring at each other, and after a long, aching silence, Blue turned to look back at Peridot’s sculpture. She was surprised to see her own reflection grinning back at her.

“An artist,” she murmured, and then felt something strange, something new…. Something like a sparkle of happiness flutter up in her soul.

“An artist,” Peridot echoed.

And when their fingers twined together, for the first time, Blue felt like she’d met a kindred spirit.

_Artists._

**Author's Note:**

> If you make art... you are an artist. I want to dedicate this to my first University year Studio Art professor who saw something in me that no one else did. :D


End file.
